A Rose by Any Other Name
by TimeForMiracles
Summary: A Supernatural Hunger Games AU. Dean/Castiel. He had less than sixty seconds to collect his thoughts. He looked up at Castiel, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. He didn't want to do this. None of them did. But they had no choice. 3, 2, 1...
1. Brothers

**A/N: Before we get started here, I just want to make one thing clear: I know there are other Supernatural/Hunger Games AUs out there, and any parallels or likenesses between this one and another are purely coincidental.**

**I would also like to say that_ there is a reason that this is not in the crossovers section_. If I had put it in the crossovers section, I would have had to put a character unrelated to this work. It would be very confusing and misguiding to some people, so I decided to label this as a Hunger Games AU and put it in just the Supernatural section.**

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**TRIGGER WARNING: There is a major trigger warning here because of the amount of violence contained in this work. Child and teenage death are prominent. Blood and violence is major. Please proceed with the utmost care and caution if any of these bother you.**

**Rating: M for violence, minor language, implied sexual references, major character death, and nudity. **

**Genre: Tragedy/Romance.**

**Pairing: Dean and Castiel.  
**

**Summary: The anticipation was maddening. Dean's stomach was full of butterflies and his palms were sweating like crazy. He knew that once that gong sounded, there would be no more time to think. He had less than sixty seconds to collect his thoughts. He looked up at Castiel, and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. He looked back at him, eyes wide and scared. He didn't want to do this. None of them did. But they had no choice. 3, 2, 1...**

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_**A rose by any other name**_

**PART 1: The Pact**

_**Chapter 1: Brothers**_

"Why does it always have to be like this?" Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. His younger brother, Sam, and his father, John, were at each other's throats again. This was a common occurrence, and it angered Dean. His little brother Adam began to wail, and Dean went over to pat his head. It seemed to sedate him, and he calmed down a bit. "See? You're making the kid cry!"

"Stay out of this, Dean!" John shouted. He stuck his finger at Sam's chest in anger. "You will _not,_ I repeat, will _not _make a joke out of this family at the reapings later today, do I make myself clear? That means no running away if you're scared, no making jokes at the announcers, nothing."

"But-"

"Do I make myself clear?" The intensity in John's voice caused Sam to freeze, and tears began pricking at his eyes as he grit his teeth in frustration.

"Yes, sir..." he complied as Mary enveloped him in a hug, glaring at John all the while.

"What honor do we have that can't be restored, John? This is your boy! For all you know, he could be _dead_ by next week!" John just shook his head.

"It's basically impossible, Mary. He won't be picked. It's a one in a million shot. I mean, what are the odds?" Mary just held her boy close to her. Meanwhile, Dean had snuck out before Sam began to cry. He hated this. He hated seeing his brother and father fight. Why was it so hard for them to just be civilized to one another? He couldn't understand it.

In District 4, families were close-knit and loved one another very much. Dean felt as if his family were the only exception. He loved his family, and he'd gladly die for them, but it didn't seem as if they felt the same the majority of the time. And if they did feel that way, they didn't reciprocate those feelings in the correct manner.

Dean made his way to the lake, hoping to find his best friend Joanna there. He called her "Jo" for short, as she preferred that name. Dean had once slipped up and called her Joanna in a fit of anger, and she became as furious as a bull when it sees red. He made sure not to make that mistake ever again; she had him pinned to the ground within seconds, forcing him to beg for mercy and tap out immediately.

Sure enough, she was at the lake, soaking her feet in the water. He smiled fondly and sat down next to her. "Mr. Winchester, I do believe you have no sense of personal space." She giggled a bit and stuck her tongue out at him as he made a face.

"And I think you're killing all the fish with the sight of your gross feet, Ms. Harvelle." Now it was his turn to laugh, and she punched him in the arm playfully.

"Just because you don't like to relax..." Jo began, but Dean cut her off.

"Jo, we don't have much time." They both frowned at this statement, and Dean continued on. "My family really needed the tesserae this year. Dad almost wouldn't let me do it, but I did it. My name's in there at least thirty times in total. That could be the most in the whole District." Jo put a hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed it gently and with affection.

"You're right, it could be. Hardly anyone in this District needs tesserae anymore when there's the surplus of fish swimming around and all that. My name's in there only about a dozen times since it's just mom and me, but even with the fish surplus... well, so many people are fishing now that it isn't really a surplus anymore," she solemnly stated.

"With the massive amount of fishing that's going on, it's been harder and harder to get good hauls. I had no choice and, God damnit, neither did you. I hate this. I hate living my life in fear of these stupid games. Why should we be punished for our ancestors' mistakes-" Dean was suddenly cut off by a swift, harsh slap to the side of his face.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Dean. If I were in our ancestors' shoes, I'd probably have done the same thing. So would you," Jo argued defiantly. Dean sighed and picked up a pebble, skipping it across the lake while nursing his cheek with his other hand.

"Yeah... you're right. I'm sorry." He really didn't feel sorry, but he didn't want to delve into this argument for the umpteenth time that month. Jo grabbed his hand and rubbed it affectionately with her thumb.

"May the odds be ever in our favor," she joked. But, deep down, Dean knew that she really meant it.

"Yeah. May the odds be ever in our favor..." he repeated, smiling up at Jo bitterly.

They stayed at the lake for several more hours, just fishing and talking. Eventually, they had to part due to the reapings. Dressing up was a huge tradition for the event. When Dean walked in the door of his house, Mary handed him a white dress shirt, black pants and black dress shoes to wear. "I want my boys to look the best they can while representing their District!" She was smiling and had a cheerful demeanor, but Dean knew that inside, her heart was breaking, just like it did every year. The facade was mostly just to placate Sam.

"Okay, mom," Dean said and smiled down at her. He was taller than her, standing at an amazing 6' 1". He was definitely sure he was done growing, though. His growth spurt had happened early on. Now he just had to wait for Sam and Adam's and they could compare heights. He was pretty certain he would be the tallest, though. He went to the bathroom and got dressed immediately after showering. He even combed his hair back. When he went into the living room, Mary tied a tie around his neck affectionately.

"You look so handsome, sweetheart. Make your father and I proud, okay?" She put her hands on his cheeks and stroked her thumbs across them, tears beginning to well up in her eyes due to the overwhelming emotions she was feeling. Dean placed a hand on one of hers and nodded tersely.

"Yes, mom," and with that, Dean went to check on Sam. He opened the door to Sam's room and regretted it immediately as a naked twelve year old appeared before him. "Woah, sorry dude!" Dean exclaimed remorsefully, closing the door quickly as his face began to heat up.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Sam shouted from the other side. Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

"I said I was sorry, bitch!" he stated. Sam's ears reddened before he replied.

"Jerk!"

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"Everyone ready to go?" John asked dejectedly. Dean and Sam nodded, and Adam gripped his mother's hand tight. At the age of five, Adam wouldn't have to worry about getting picked, as only kids from the ages of twelve to eighteen were picked to compete in the Hunger Games. Dean clamped a hand on Sam's shoulder as they began the short walk to the square.

"It'll be okay, Sammy," Dean assured him, as if he had read his mind and knew how terrified he was. He could feel Sam's shoulder trembling, and Dean was impressed with how calm he looked despite his body's betrayal.

"I know, Dean. Thanks," he replied. But no, it would not be okay. It would never be okay. Not as long as Sam was underage. He could get picked at any of the reapings, as could Dean. It was pure insanity, the whole system! And Sam knew it. Soon, Dean's grip relaxed and he removed his hand from Sam's body. However, Sam immediately grabbed the retreating hand and squeezed it nervously. Dean was slightly surprised, but he squeezed back to give Sam some peace of mind.

When they got to the finger pricking table, Sam started to move away. However, Dean held his hand tight enough to keep him there. He bent down and quickly began explaining the procedure. "Hey now, don't chicken out on me, buddy," Dean began. He felt like a hypocrite, because he'd like to run away as fast as possible himself. "They're just gonna prick your finger for some identification, and that's it." Sam nodded and watched Dean go up to get his finger pricked. Feeling more confident, he took one last look at his parents and Adam as they traveled to the adult section of the crowd before going to the table. It stung a bit when the sharp object came in contact with his skin, but the young boy continued forward, anxious to catch up to his elder brother.

Dean looked for Jo in the gigantic sea of people, catching her eye before a woman walked up to the podium, introducing herself as Jody Mills. She was not cheerful in the slightest. The woman who initially announced the reapings was extremely ill, so Jody was forced to do it in exchange for her the safety of her son. The history of the Hunger Games played on a huge television monitor, and once it finished, Jody answered with a mocking "and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Some people in the crowd laughed and others smiled at her tone. At least there was some lightheartedness in this year's reapings to ease everyone's minds a little.

Gingerly, her hand reached into the female ballot holder and pulled out a slip of paper, feeling incredibly sorry for the family she was about to ruin. She read the name on the paper and shakily announced "L-Lisa Braeden..." A few cries and shouts followed in her wake as Lisa made her way up to the the podium.

Dean remembered that girl fairly well. He had had a crush on her when he was just twelve years old. He never told her how he felt, which was just as well because all he could feel for her now was sympathy and sorrow. He looked down and shook his head in dismay. _'You don't deserve this...'_ he thought.

Next, Mills' hand reached into the male ballot holder. It was the moment of truth, and Dean could feel his palms sweating and his mind unconsciously chanting _'don't pick me, don't pick me.'_

"Samuel Winchester," Jody announced, snapping Dean out of his daze. Time seemed to stand still for a few moments as Dean collected his thoughts and replayed the name inside his head at least a hundred times.

How could Sam, of all people, be picked? This wasn't supposed to happen! He had his name in there once. _Once!_ Of all the people they could have picked, why in the world did it have to be Sam?

Dean tried to say something, anything, but his throat closed up. His mind began reeling, and he reached for his brother's arm. By the time he came back to reality, Sam was walking toward the stage. Dean immediately rushed out and batted the peacekeepers out of the way. "-go! Let go of me! That's my brother!" Dean shouted, but to no avail. Finally, when he could no longer break the mens' hold, he called out hoarsely "I volunteer." When he was sure they couldn't hear him, he became louder. "I volunteer!" His voice was becoming frantic, now. It felt as if his tongue was stuck in his throat.

"Dean! Dean, no!" Sam began, but he was cut off by Dean when he finally found his voice.

"I volunteer as tribute in my brother's place!"


	2. The Promise

******A/N: I will be putting a trigger warning at the start of every chapter, just to emphasize it. I'll add more warnings depending on chapter content, but other than that, the statement will stay pretty much remain the same.**

******Also, I've been using numbers instead of words in some areas so that I could stress it. That way, you won't be confused. Using a "4" for District 4 helps you easily retain the number of the District that Dean is from. If you were to scan the chapter quickly, you might miss that and become confused when the District is addressed again later on. Same goes for the Hunger Games number. It's important to know that this is the _99th_ Hunger Games, and not some other number. There will be a sequel, and this number will be important.**

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******TRIGGER WARNING: There is a major trigger warning here because of the amount of violence contained in this work. Child and teenage death are prominent. Blood and violence is major. Please proceed with the utmost care and caution if any of these bother you.**

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_**Chapter 2: The Promise**_

The crowd was silent as Dean's announcement rang through the square and registered in everyone's minds. Tears streaked down Sam's face as he wrapped his arms around Dean. "No! Dean, NO!" John came out of the crowd and went on to the stage, grabbing Sam with one arm and easily hoisting him up on his hip.

"It'll be okay, Sammy," Dean declared with a smile. His face hurt from all of the fake smiles he had been giving lately. The smile faded as he looked back up at Jody Mills. "Please," he sighed with distress. Jody nodded solemnly, taking Dean by the shoulder with careful hands. She looked out to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your District 4 tributes for the 99th Hunger Games." Not one sound came from the crowd. Mary's silent tears spoke volumes. Dean's mind slipped backward and he couldn't help but think that this would be the last time he ever saw this stage.

Never in a million years did Dean think his little brother would be picked as tribute in the Hunger Games. It was absurd. He spent weeks telling him over and over again that it would be alright; weeks telling him that he wouldn't get picked. '_Yeah, well, karma's a bitch,'_ Dean thought as he took Lisa's hand in his.

He could hear Lisa mutter something under her breath; something along the lines of "we'll be okay, you'll see." But Dean couldn't help feeling like that statement was more for herself than for him. Nevertheless, he squeezed her hand and smiled.

"Of course we will," he replied. _'Of course we will...'_ he repeated in his head. As soon as the cameramen were sure the Capitol had their fill of Dean and Lisa's misery, the peacekeepers took them both to separate rooms to say their goodbyes to their loved ones.

The room was relatively small; it was cabin-styled and could have passed for a child's bedroom just by its size alone. The wallpaper was faded and the wood on the furniture was chipped and warped. Dean felt like he was in a sauna – the heat was stifling. The room was used once a year, and was obviously not well kept.

Dean sat on a broken chair in silence, waiting for his family to show up. Eventually, the door clicked open, and a distraught Sam came bursting through it. "Dean! Dean!" he wailed as he flew straight into the older boy's arms. Dean smiled sadly and pat his back softly as Sam wrapped his arms around his brother's torso tightly. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Please let me take your place, because it's my fault you're in this mess! _Please!_" Sam's voice was so wracked with sobs that he was almost incoherent.

"Shh... Shh... Sammy, this is in no way your fault!" Dean exclaimed. Sam, however, was not having it.

"No, Dean. You don't understand, I... I signed up for tesserae, even when you told me not to. That's why we had all of that extra grain a few months ago. I wanted to help you, so that maybe I could decrease the chances of you getting picked since you'd frequent the tesserae less often. But, now..." Sam sobbed into his older brother's shirt, too ashamed to go on. Dean's eyes widened in surprise, but eventually they softened as Sam went on.

"Sam, you are so brave," he began as he took one knee. He could feel the tears begin to prick at his eyes. He rubbed at them with his hand and then clamped said hand on Sam's shoulder. The other hand followed shortly thereafter, and he shook the smaller boy gently when he was not appeased. "Snap out of it, Sam. Hey, you listen to me, okay? You signed up for tesserae, and nothing's gonna change that fact. But hell, Sammy, you saved our asses. We only get enough for a month with each sign-up, but it wasn't enough that month, I guess. You're a hero. I'll gladly take your place in the Hunger Games-"

"No, Dean! No!"

"Yes, Sam. So what if your name is in there one more time? That's what you've got an older brother for – to win for you. I'm gonna win these games, Sammy, I promise. And when I do, we're gonna have the life we always wanted. I'm comin' home..." Dean forced down a sob and settled his throat. "I'm comin' home, Sammy. You can bet your ass I'm comin' home." Sam's eyes filled to the brim with tears all over again as Dean leaned in to kiss his forehead. "I love you, kiddo," Dean stated with a smile.

"I love you too, Dean," Sam blubbered and wrapped his arms around his brother one more time before backing up to let the rest of the family say goodbye.

Mary was first. She ran forward and embraced her soon, not wanting to let go. "You win this, Dean. God damnit, you win this!" She looked into her son's eyes, and suddenly he was a newborn again. She wished she could go back to those much happier days. Dean nodded at her demand, eyes unblinking as this was probably the last time he'd ever see his mother again.

"I promise I will. I promise..." he said as he threw his arms around her, frantic and searching for love. He would need all of the love he could get to make it through the games. The embrace was short lived as little Adam wanted his hug goodbye, too. Dean gave it to him and kissed his cheek.

"You'll come back... right, big brother?" Adam inquired innocently, and Dean smirked.

"Come on, Adam. I won't go down that easily. These games ain't dirt off my shoulder," he lied. Young and naive, the boy believed him. Dean set him down, and then his father came to him. They stood there for a good long moment or two before running into each other's arms. They both talked at once, John whispering words of comfort and Dean telling him that he'd win the games and become the man his father always wanted him to be. Dean rested his cheek on John's shoulder and clenched his eyes shut, baiting off the tears. He would not cry. Not here. Not now.

"Dean, I know I haven't always been the best father to you and Sam and Adam, but I just want you to know how proud I am of you," John started. Dean shook his head.

"Don't give me that crap, dad. Don't you dare. Don't say you're not a good father, because to me, you're the greatest damn father a kid could ever ask for. And don't you start with the pansy monologue about how sorry you are and how much you pity me, okay? 'Cuz then I'll really feel like it's the end for me." Dean looked up after releasing his hold on his father. John nodded nimbly.

"Can I just say one thing, though?" John asked. Dean nodded to show his consent. "I love you, son. And I'm going to have a huge welcome home part for you," he continued, a smile growing on his face. Dean grinned back.

"I love you too, dad. And I'm holding you to that party," he replied. However, the happy atmosphere soon dissipated as two peacekeepers came in and took Dean's family from him. Not too long after they were seen out, Jo came running in, throwing herself at Dean and snaking her arms up and around his neck.

"You're going to win this, Dean. I'm sure of it. You're strong," she explained. Dean laughed slightly and nodded.

"Yeah, I am. But... just one thing, Jo... could you make sure Sam doesn't take anymore tesserae? I really don't want him in the Quarter Quell next year," he explained. Jo nodded vigorously.

"Of course, Dean. Of course. You just worry about getting yourself food, water and a safe place to hide in that arena, alright?"

"Yeah. Will do. Thanks, Jo. I-" Dean began, but the peacekeepers cut in before he could finish. He could hear Jo shouting his name desperately from the other side of the door as they forced her out. When the peacekeepers came back, they showed Dean out and brought him to the train that was waiting to deliver him and Lisa to the Capitol.

The train was silver and pristine in condition, but other than that, it wasn't too fancy on the outside. When Dean went inside, his heart almost stopped. Everything was absolutely stunning. The inside of the train was gorgeous and so exquisite. It was so nice, in fact, that Dean wouldn't have minded living there. He went over to the window and stood beside Lisa.

As the train's engine roared to life and began moving, Dean waved to the people of District 4 from the large window. He scanned the crowd and spotted Jo and his family. His heart picked up and a genuine smile spread across his face. Waving ecstatically, he shouted, "I'm coming back! I'll be back soon!" And as he waved and smiled and shouted, the train moved along the tracks until everyone was out of sight.

He was sure this would be the last time he ever saw them.


	3. Feels Like a Nightmare

**A/N: For the purpose of convenience, I'm having the tributes go to the training center before they head to the remake center instead of heading straight to the remake center.**

**P.S.: If you find any spelling or grammar errors, please let me know. Thank you!**

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**TRIGGER WARNING:**** There is a major trigger warning here because of the amount of violence contained in this work. Child and teenage death are prominent. Blood and violence is major. Please proceed with the utmost care and caution if any of these bother you.**

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_**Chapter 3: Feels Like a Nightmare**_

The train ride wasn't as miserable as Dean thought it would be. Though the emotions and expressions were somber, the food was good and Dean enjoyed talking to Jody and their mentor from District 4, Bobby Singer. Bobby was happy to help in any way he could, but he explained to Dean that his and Lisa's odds of coming out of the arena alive were a little more than 4 percent each. That coupled with the fact that only one of them could live while the other had to die was not something Dean wanted to discuss presently.

So instead, he, Bobby, Lisa and Jody talked about what the schedule would be like for the next couple of days. It turned out that tomorrow night, after getting cleaned up and turned into their stylists' "dream pair", they'd be having the traditional chariot ride that all of the tributes had to participate in. Lisa and Dean didn't mind sharing the chariot, but it would be tough to put something together that would wow the audience and gain willing sponsors.

"Well, that's up to your stylists," Bobby concluded, and left the topic at that. He wasn't much for fashion or looking pretty, as he had stated it.

When they reached the Capitol, Dean pressed his face to the glass and made several incoherent strings of noises that expressed his utter awe and appreciation of the area. "_This_ is the _Capitol_? It's freakin' beautiful!" he shouted incredulously. Bobby couldn't help but laugh a little.

"You're the first person in a long time to be so enthused by this city of fake get-ups and clowns in tiaras and all that junk," he stated matter-of-factly. Dean couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and laugh as well as he waved and smiled at the Capitol folk.

"They seem like good people!" The fact that Dean could say that, after all they were putting him through, was too much for Lisa.

"How can you _say_ that? They're sending you into an arena to fight for your life like a pig for slaughter, Dean!" Shaking her head in disbelief, the dark-haired girl marched off the train. Dean looked to Jody and Bobby, and then shrugged.

"Sure must suck to be fighting for your life during that time of the month," Dean joked darkly as he walked toward the door of the train and onto the platform. He received woops, cheers, whistling and deafening claps coming from the Capitol citizens lining the streets, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their favorite tributes at the twelve different stations. Dean shook hands with quite a few people while being ushered along by Peacekeepers. He even got to hug a couple of girls that nearly fainted when he came over to them. They were young, so they weren't as plastic as some of the other Barbie dolls in the crowd.

Eventually, Dean and Lisa arrived at the place that would be their temporary home – the training center. They went up to the fourth floor, according to the number of their District. It was extremely fancy, and everything looked like it could just be a far away dream, which Dean so desperately wished it to be. Lisa looked at Dean cautiously before sitting down on the fancy sofa. Dean soon joined her, and Jody and Bobby followed shortly after.

"So chief, what's our game plan?" Dean inquired perkily. Bobby huffed and repeated the same thing he did year after year.

"Get yourselves to a source of water. It'll save your lives. After that, you hide. An' you get outta that cornucopia of death as fast as you can. The longer you stay in that general area, the more likely it is you'll be killed," their mentor explained. Dean nodded, taking into consideration what he had just heard.

"And if we can't find water...?" Lisa piped in.

"You die. It ain't optional. There's almost always water in the arena, unless you're looking at a games where they wanna kill you all off early, which I highly doubt." Bobby looked her in the eyes, his face grave. "You do not leave that arena without finding water." It was funny, that statement. Normally, something similar to it would be heard when a parent is telling their child to clean their room or go shopping. Now, it was life or death. You could not become the victor without finding water, otherwise you would die of dehydration instead of being punished by your parents.

"Alright, alright, we get it! Water. Gotcha. What I wanna know is if there's gonna be a trident for me to use in that cornucopia," Dean asked. Bobby shrugged and sipped at his drink subconsciously.

"That's your strength? A trident?"

"A harpoon would work, too," Dean began, "or maybe even a knife. But yeah, my area of expertise is tridents. Trained with them my whole life." Bobby adjusted his hat and leaned forward a bit, looking Dean straight in the eyes.

"You take whatcha can git. But, if you can score yourself a trident, then do so. However, don't go out of your way just for the silly thing. Grab whatever's available and bolt from that hell-on-earth, you hear me?" The older man was dead serious, and Dean saw severe empathy emanating from him through the look in his eyes. What this poor man must have went through was unfathomable to Dean at that moment. He'd know soon enough; sooner than he would have liked.

"I hear you. Lisa, what are you good at?" After all of that Lisa-watching Dean did when he was younger, he never saw her do anything much that required physical skill or weaponry.

"I can, um... weave nets. So, trap setting and people catching, I guess. I'm also pretty handy with nails, but I doubt they'll have any for me. Knives could work, too..."

"I dunno, they put some really weird stuff in those arenas," Dean pitched in. Bobby thought for a long while.

"You can build shelter?"

"Yeah. I'm not too bad at it."

"Find a tree if you can, and carve a door out. Hide yourself inside, nailing the door shut until you run out of supplies. Then, you hunt whoever's left. Depends on how much supplies you're able to nab. That's some damn good shelter and an even better source of hiding." Lisa looked at him, seemingly amazed that he could come up with such an idea. She vaguely wondered if he had used a similar tactic in his games.

"That's... that's an awesome idea!" She was laughing a bit. "Maybe I can actually win this thing after all."

"Not if I beat'cha first!" Dean exclaimed. They all laughed sardonically, knowing full well how dark their humor was. But they had a right. They were on a death march, and it was relentless.

* * *

After dinner that night, Dean went to his room. He flopped down on the mattress after picking out a grey t-shirt and a pair of striped flannel pants to wear. The clothes were brand new, and they smelled so good that Dean was debating on whether or not to just hold the fabric over his face and suffocate in it. But he couldn't; he couldn't leave Sam, Adam and his parents like that. Especially not Sam. Besides, the training center probably had cameras everywhere. The peacekeepers would be there in a heartbeat. A thought passed his mind on the probability of there being cameras in the bathroom, and he was suddenly scared to shower or relieve himself. He shook his head and covered his eyes with his arms.

Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply, wishing sleep would come take him already. But it wasn't going to, and he knew that. There was just way too much on his mind. The ever looming axe of death hung above his head like a swinging pendulum, following him wherever he went.

It was either kill or be killed, and though Dean was almost positive he was going to die, he wasn't going down without a fight. He just didn't want to change in the arena and kill without reason; his morality was something he wished would remain intact. Hell, maybe he'd even make new friends before he died.

Suddenly and without warning, sleep took him after hours of thinking. He dreamt of seeing his family again, but he was soaked in blood and they wanted nothing to do with him. "But I love you!" Dean cried out, and awoke shouting that. He was soaked in his own sweat.

He turned toward the large digital clock on the nightstand opposite him. It read 4:32 AM. He sighed, the panic beginning to flush out of his system.

He laid back down and hoped desperately that the nightmare would never occur again.

* * *

Dean and Lisa shared an early breakfast with Jody and Bobby after showering and before going to the remake center. The stylist for Dean, Bela, was extremely meticulous about detail and wanted the colors to pop, which they did. It wasn't anything too fancy, and that's what Dean liked about it. He was just glad that he didn't have to dress up as a mermaid, like past tributes had. He was clad in a black shirt cuffed at the elbows and black jeans that accented the shirt nicely. "But what have these colors got to do with-"

"Shh. You'll soon find out," Bela replied as she tied a red tie around his neck. "You're going to shine, pretty boy." She smiled and smoothed out his outfit. Dean noticed that she wasn't particularly like any of the other Capitol citizens. She dressed differently, and didn't look like she just came out of a doll box, complete with accessories and cute little dog figurine. He marveled at her beauty for another minute or two before meeting Lisa in the waiting room.

Lisa looked absolutely beautiful. Her hair was tied back in a bun and she was wearing a lovely light blue wedding gown cuffed at the shoulders. Dean could tell she was nervous, so he took her hand and patted it reassuringly. "You'll be fine. It'll be okay." He recalled saying those exact words to Sam, and how it was far from the truth. Except Sam was safe, and that was all that really mattered. Lisa nodded and thanked the taller boy.

Soon, their chariot arrived and everyone came into the room for a quick briefing. Rufus (Lisa's stylist) and Bela added the finishing touches by giving Dean a gold crown and Lisa a silver tiara. They draped a royal blue cloak loosely around Dean's shoulders so that it dragged the floor of the chariot. Then, Lisa was given a transparent light blue veil to cover her face and an icy blue, frozen flower bouquet. It wasn't real ice, of course, it just gave the effect of being real. She held it close to her breast as Bela handed Dean a trident to hold in the hand that was facing the outside of the chariot. They held their heads up high and gripped each other's free hands tight, which Bela hadn't instructed them to do, but it sure was a nice touch.

The chariots rolled out one by one, and soon Dean and Lisa had the center floor. Suddenly, Dean's crown and Lisa's tiara turned a clear blue color so that they looked as if they were sculpted out of ice. Small streams of water erupted from the sides of the chariot, crystallizing as they entwined around it. Dean and Lisa were encased inside a barred, crystallized ball. Then, it shattered into hundreds of little shards. It was a truly stunning display, and they got a lot of fanfare from the onlookers.

After the procession, they all went back to the fourth floor of the training tower. They watched the chariot rides on television while sitting in the living room. It turns out Dean and Lisa were actually not the life of the party, as one District truly wowed the audience and Dean alike.

District 7's Castiel and Anna had a tree branch canopy entwine itself together above their heads, with flowers blooming out of nowhere and bursting to life. After that, branches came out of the chariot's sides, and individual ones coiled around each of their waists, lifting them into the air and placing them on top of the canopy as the chariot moved along. More flowers bloomed around them that blew stardust toward the audience. It was very well done and a fantastic display of nature.

However, Dean wasn't interested in the nature of it, or even the aerodynamics. No, what he was interested in was the startled-looking, blue eyed, dark-haired boy who reminded him so much of an angel. He was gorgeous, and Dean found himself approaching the television screen to get a closer look.

"Who is _that_?" Dean marveled in awe. Bobby raised an eyebrow and Lisa blinked a couple of times, incredulous.

"If you were listening, Dean, that's Castiel from District 7. Anna is his fellow tribute," Jody explained with a smirk. Dean looked up at her for a moment before backing up and sitting on the sofa again.

"He's gorgeous..." he said, mesmerized by the angel's face on the screen. Lisa blushed a bit and looked away, and Bobby cleared his throat, ready to change the subject.

"You kids best be gettin' to bed. We got trainin' to do tomorrow." Dean went to his room shortly thereafter and eventually, sleep took him

The boy named Castiel appeared in his dreams.


	4. What doesn't kill you

******TRIGGER WARNING: There is a major trigger warning here because of the amount of violence contained in this work. Child and teenage death are prominent. Blood and violence is major. Please proceed with the utmost care and caution if any of these bother you.**

* * *

_**Chapter 4 - What doesn't kill you...**_

They arrived for training bright and early after a huge breakfast. Dean could have gotten used to living in the Capitol, but not at the expense of losing his life and never seeing his loved ones again. Walking into the area where the tributes were all gathered, Dean sat down next to Lisa as an overseer explained the rules. Dean hardly listened throughout the whole explanation as he could not keep his eyes off of the boy he was so struck by the previous day.

Castiel looked up and locked eyes with Dean, but then quickly looked away. It was in that moment that Dean realized he could trust him. No one's eyes were that sincere. They were so big and innocent, and the purity in them betrayed the honest fear in Castiel's heart. He was not a killer; he was an ally.

After the woman was finished with the training center rules and regulations, they all set to work at different stations. Everyone was clad in matching shirts and shorts; the tops were light grey with black around the sides and blue on the shoulder blades, and the shorts were just plain black with blue stripes down the sides.

Dean went over to the trap setting station as that was his weakest point. He was able to easily construct a lobster cage out of wood, but he did not bode well with the rodent and rabbit traps that he had created. Sighing frustratedly, he left the station and headed over to the net weaving station to talk to Lisa. He began weaving a net quickly and efficiently, though it had a few mistakes. Lisa pointed them out and helped Dean fix them.

"So _that's_ how you do that!" he exclaimed. "Thanks, Lisa. Don't know what I'd do without you." Lisa smiled sadly as she put her net down.

"You're welcome, Dean. But I'm afraid you're going to have to learn to live without me." Dean sighed agitatedly at this before setting his own net down and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Can we _not_ talk about this right now?" he pleaded. Lisa shook her head and her smile grew sarcastic.

"Of course, _honey. _Let's just go off to never, never land and pretend that we _aren't_ going to die in less than a weak, yeah?" she asked darkly. Dean gave her a cold, hard look.

"Yeah, real nice, Lisa. Real nice," he replied before stalking away to the fire making station. However, before he took up an axe and went off to go and chop wood, he noticed Castiel sitting on a bench adjacent to the station. Being from District 7, Dean thought that he would have been all over this station by now.

Looking around him, Dean picked up the axe before walking towards the blue eyed boy. He pretended to be interested in the design of the tool by feeling the metal, weighing the handle and testing the sharpness. Eventually, he reached his destination and stood to the side of Castiel, looking away so as to not seem interested in him at all.

"So... District seven, huh?" the lighter haired teen began. When the shorter boy didn't respond, he tried again. "Well, y'know... I'm from District four, so I'm not too hot with axes. Could you tell me if this axe is in good shape?" Dean already knew that it was in excellent condition, but he wanted to connect with the other boy on a level he would understand. His question got a slight reaction from Castiel; he looked up slightly at Dean before looking forward again.

"The silent type, hm? That's what kind of guy you are?" Dean continued, still trying to get at least a one word response. When he did not respond for the third time, Dean kneeled down in front of him after setting his axe down. "Why aren't you at any of the stations? Why aren't you training and honing your skills? I thought you'd be dominating the fire making and weapons training stations." Castiel looked at him thoughtfully and shrugged.

"There is no point. I am going to die either way, so I believe that going down without trying is the best thing for me to do," he finally spoke. Dean's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

"Geez, first words are supposed to be dramatic if you keep somebody hangin' that long. And what's that supposed to mean, anyway?" he inquired.

"It means that there is no point in trying if I already know the results."

"That's bull!"

"That is life." Castiel's eyes hardened and narrowed right back at Dean. "I am not going to win. The others... they are much stronger than I am."

"So find an ally," Dean argued. Castiel sighed and shook his head.

"And have to kill them in the end?" he asked dejectedly. "No, thank you."

"You don't have to kill them-" Dean began, but Castiel cut in.

"I don't have a choice."

"There's _**always**_ a choice." Dean's expression was unwavering. Castiel raised a curious eyebrow and waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead, he stood up and began walking away. "It's up to you to figure out your options."

Castiel bit his lip in frustration before shaking his head. "You are a fool..." And he could swear he felt the ghost of a smile form on his face.

* * *

The next days' training started off uneventfully. Dean decided he would continue to work on his weak spots and save the best for last. This found him at the archery station in the early hours of the morning. It was only nine o'clock, but mostly everyone was already in the training area.

After stringing a bow rather quickly due to his expertise with stringing fishing poles, he aimed at the circular target. He placed an arrow against the string and pulled back, watching the target carefully. When he released the bowstring, the arrow fell to the ground no more than two feet in front of him. He sighed frustratedly and tried again, only to get the same results a second time. "You can keep trying," a voice said, "but you won't get anywhere." Dean looked around for the source of the voice, and when he laid eyes on a familiar tuft of dark hair and a startling set of blue eyes, his face lit up.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. Castiel smiled and took up an axe. "I see you're in a good mood today, huh?"

"I am taking what you said to heart. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done...'" he began to repeat verbatim. A slight pause followed after him after he stopped mid-sentence, realizing that Dean probably would not get the reference. "Charles Dickens."

"Well, I have no idea what you just said, but I'm glad you're trying!" Dean's mouth was upturned in a genuine smile, and the boy in front of him was struck by his beauty. They stared at each other for a long time.

It wasn't in the way that Dean held his head high, or in the way that he styled his hair. It wasn't in the way Castiel's face was that of an angel's, or in the way his eyes pierced the soul. Rather, it was the way in which they expressed these features to one another, coupled with the way they personified themselves, that differentiated them from each other. That was what drew them together.

Light streamed in from windows of the training center, signifying that the sun had risen higher and that it was getting closer to noon. The sunlight hit Castiel perfectly, accenting his body beautifully with highlights. However, the light did not shine on Dean. Instead, he was shrouded in darkness. The two stood as yin and yang, light and dark, angel and devil, right in the crossfire of heaven and hell.

Finally, Castiel cleared his throat and gestured to Dean's bow and arrow. "Shall we?" he mused.

"Of course," Dean remarked. They worked together for a long time; Castiel showed Dean how to shoot his arrows further, and Dean showed Castiel how to weave a net. The axe of death that loomed over Dean lifted a bit when he was with his new ally, and his heart hammered in his chest. For some reason, he was okay with dying as long as he was beside Cas.

Lisa watched them from afar while she was at the knife station. She furrowed her eyebrows at the fact that Dean was fraternizing with the enemy instead of helping her. She was, in essence, an enemy as well, but less of one than she'd admit to. Her eyes were like daggers, clear and sharp, and aimed at Castiel with the intent to kill. She would not allow him to kill Dean. Lisa knew she would not be strong enough to win the games. It was just a disturbing fact. But if _she_ didn't win, she wanted Dean to win. He would go back to District 7 a hero, gaining a food surplus for the District and reuniting with his family that so desperately needed him. She would kill Castiel before he had the chance to take that chance away from her.

The next knife she threw hit a bullseye.

* * *

They ate a late lunch, and afterwards, Dean took a moment to truly survey the other tributes for the first time. Crowley and Lilith from District 1 and Uriel and Ruby from District 2 were the careers. They looked extremely menacing and bloodthirsty. Although, maybe they were just trained to look that way. Dean entertained the possibility that it could just be a facade, and that they were actually pretty terrified.

Next were Garth and Annie from District 3, but they didn't look too tough. District 5 had a boy and a girl who didn't stand out to Dean at all, really. Gabriel and Ava were the District 6 tributes, and accompanying Castiel in District 7 was Anna, a red-head with promise. District 8 had Balthazar and Daphne, and from District 9 was a boy named Gordon and a female tribute. District 10 looked pretty strong, but the names of the tributes of the District eluded Dean. From District 11 came Raphael and Cassie, and District 12's tributes were Jimmy and Meg.

Jimmy had a striking resemblance to Castiel, but there were so many differences between them that Dean didn't dwell on it for too long. He went over to the weapons making station and found Gabriel there. "Howdy!" the much shorter boy piped up.

"Hey," Dean replied. Gabriel was in the process of making a sword, though it was unlikely that he could wield it considering how heavy it looked. They didn't exchange many more words, but Gabriel did happen to comment on Dean's love for Sam in the short conversation.

"I would have taken my brother's place in a heartbeat, too. Also, your brother's really adorable," the bronze-haired one spoke. Dean laughed conscientiously and began thinking about Sam again.

"Yeah. I love Sam very much," he replied numbly. This caused Gabriel to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, I would hope so, considering what you did for the kid."

"Yes, but I promised him that I'd win," Dean mumbled remorsefully.

"Then fulfill that promise," Gabriel began, "and make good on your word. That is, if someone doesn't kill you first. Make sure you kill me before I kill you, kapeesh?" He got up and left before Dean had the chance to reply, and he took his sword with him, carrying it with ease. Dean pondered on those final words for a long while before casting a sidelong glance at the approaching form of his new friend.

"Hey, Cas," Dean greeted him with a smile. Castiel's eyebrows quirked upward in a funny fashion before taking the seat opposite Dean. "How are you?"

"I am well," he began. "Thank you. I trust you are well, too?" he replied.

"Of course. But it's only been an hour, so I guess you sorta knew the answer to that already."

"But you- … never mind," Castiel sighed in defeat.

"Whatever you say, Cas." Castiel looked up and searched Dean's eyes.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"That name," Castiel stated.

"What, you mean 'Cas'?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

Dean blinked a few times before replying. "It's a nickname, I guess. Why? No one ever shortens your name at home?"

"No. It is considered a sign of disrespect in my District. My family is rather... religiously strict, so to speak."

"Okay, then I won't call you Cas, Cas- I mean, Castiel."

"We are not in my District, Dean," Cas chuckled. "You may call you me what you wish." The sound of his gorgeous laughter lightened up Dean's murky mood incredibly, which caused him to chuckle back in response.

"Alright, Cas it is, then! Sheesh, make up your mind, will you?" It was the first time either of them had genuinely laughed in a while.

* * *

The two parted ways for the day, and while he was on the elevator that would return him to his floor, Dean couldn't help but marvel about Castiel. He wanted to know more about him and even gain his trust if he could, but he knew that it would be possibly damaging and horribly fatal to his chances of winning. _'I don't want to think about this right now...'_ he thought.

When he got to his floor, he sat down and talked with Bobby about the upcoming events. "Apparently, they've added something new to the prep period. After interviews on the final night, there'll be a ball. Everyone, since they'll already be dressed up and all that, will make their way to the training room, which is gonna be turned into a ballroom during the day. It's not optional, either," Bobby explained to both him and Lisa.

Rolling his eyes at the prospect of dancing, Dean started. "Well I don't _have_ to dance, do I?"

"You're not forced to, but the event is televised and it's good for sponsors," their mentor shot back.

"Great," Dean responded, "just great. Not really being given a choice here, are we?"

"Suck it up," Lisa barked. "You can dance with your new friend, Dean." Dean took offense to the venom in that statement and narrowed his eyes.

"What's _your _problem?" Lisa slammed her hands onto the glass table in sheer anger. She was tough, so she cracked the glass a bit with the impact.

"What's my problem? What's _my_ problem? Try what's _your_ problem! You're making friends with people you don't even know, Dean! Help me out, instead! I'm already your friend. I..." but she cut herself off. "Never mind..." and with that, she ran off to her room without another word. Dean looked at Bobby and they both shrugged.

"I'm here to get the upper-hand. So what if I make friends? She knows I can't only be helping her. Besides, she can take care of herself. And... honestly? The more she keeps acting like this, the less I'm gonna want her as an ally," he explained.

"Well, the good thing is that you've got yourself an ally besides her already. But that Castiel looks pretty frail, Dean. You sure you know what yer doin'?" Bobby scrutinized. Dean nodded. Bobby didn't seem completely averse to the idea of Cas being Dean's ally, which was a pretty good sign.

"Positive," Dean stated. He seemed completely nonchalant and unaware to the dangers that this arrangement could bring. It was almost uncanny how much he seemed to trust Castiel already. And something in the depths of his mind was telling him to be very, very careful.

* * *

It was the final day of training, and everyone would be showing off their best skills toward the end of the day. Dean and Castiel reunited near a target that was used for weapons' practice. Wielding a trident that he grabbed from a rack full of different sized weapons, Dean aimed at the target. "Wait, Dean!" Cas began.

"What?" Dean queried, ready to release the trident from his hand. Castiel signaled for him to lower his weapon by patting his arm gently and pointing to the ground with his free hand.

"Do you really want to show the other tributes your greatest skills...?" he inquired. Dean thought about it, and then agreed.

"Good point. You're right. I should keep it under wraps, huh?" Cas nodded and took the trident from Dean, bringing it up and wielding it.

"Just play along, okay?" Castiel ordered, and Dean consented. The nagging feeling in his mind was adamant. _'Don't trust him, don't trust him, it's dangerous.' _Castiel raised his arm and threw the trident over his head. He missed the target and looked crestfallen, but he winked at Dean and gestured to an axe on the wall. Dean caught the hint, picked the axe up, and chucked it at the target. He hit the wall instead. This alarmed quite a few passersby, and some of the tributes near the second floor railing laughed incredulously.

"Wow. They are just awful," the one named Crowley from District 1 stated. He had short black hair that spiked up a bit in the front and had a boyish face. His fellow tribute, Lilith, nodded.

"Yes, I would _not_ want to be them," she said with a menacing smile. Cas smirked clandestinely before sighing in defeat.

"Dean, maybe we should just give up... we are awful. We're going to die right away, anyway. What's the point in trying?" he asked. In turn, Dean, while trying not to laugh, nodded in agreement.

"You're right, Cas. We're pretty bad. Let's just stop this. Stop pretending we're tough when we're just terrified of dying," he whispered loud enough for the others to hear.

"Well... they're dead meat," Ruby stated in a clairvoyant manner. All of the tributes had the same thing running through their mind;_ two down, twenty-two to go._

* * *

Dean waited for Castiel to finish his evaluation. Dean himself had done what he deemed a pretty kick ass job in his own evaluation. When Castiel came out, he was grinning. "I did pretty well, Dean. I-I'm happy," he stuttered with excitement. Dean took his hand and squeezed it.

"I knew you'd show them just how awesome you are, Cas. I bet you even got a higher score than me!" he replied. Castiel shook his head vigorously.

"No way! I'm sure I didn't even come _half_ as close to your score!" he retorted, followed by a long pause. He looked into Dean's eyes endearingly and shook his head firmly. "Thank you, Dean. I couldn't have done this without you." It wasn't the gratitude Castiel was expressing that shocked Dean, but rather the warm feeling that he was experiencing. It shot up through his veins and capillaries and into his heart and lungs. It was in the air that he breathed and in the things he heard, saw, smelt and touched. The experience was amazingly exhilarating. He could not keep his eyes off of Castiel. He argued that it was probably only because he felt that his friend was in danger at all times. He would protect him.

"Don't thank me, Cas..." Dean replied after a while, "your hard work got you to this point." Cas just smiled modestly and shrugged.

"You are still my hero, Dean." A hero. Dean. Dean? A hero? Dean could not make sense of these two phrases in the same sentence.

"A-A hero?" he stammered, trying to find more articulate wording.

"_My_ hero," the blue eyed angel reiterated, and Dean saw the innocent admiration and sheer emotion that radiated off of his ally. It was startling and intense. He looked around really quickly before pulling Castiel into a corner. Castiel immediately wrapped his arms tightly around Dean's shoulders, enveloping him in a hug. Dean returned the hug just as tightly, if not more. They were trembling and on the verge of tears. The lighter-haired boy whispered calming, soothing words to the darker haired teen like he had with Sam so many times before. "Dean, I'm scared..."

"I know, Cas. I know. I am, too. But it'll be okay. You'll see. I'll get you out of this. We'll find a way out," Dean spoke with a trembling lip. Castiel managed a weak smile and even gave a quiet laugh, though it sounded slightly hysterical.

"You are a very terrible liar, Dean."

"I know."

"You will win."

"I have no choice."

"If my death means your survival, then I will gladly lay down my life for you." Dean released Castiel immediately, shocked by the confession. He shook his head exuberantly and grabbed Cas by the shoulders.

"Don't. You. _**Dare**_. Don't you _dare_, Cas, you hear me? You fight for your God damned life in that arena. Otherwise, I'll lose all the respect I have for you. Do you understand?" No answer. "Do you _understand?_" Dean recalled his father's harsh words to Sam earlier in the week, and felt slightly remorseful.

"Y-yes!" Castiel choked out. "Yes." He closed his eyes and thought a moment. "We are enemies, you and I. Yet somehow allies. How ironic. … I don't want to die, Dean."

"I won't let you. I'll find a way. I'll find a way, Cas... I promise," he said as he buried his face in Castiel's shoulder, holding him as if his life depended on it. His mind kept chanting things that told him that trusting Castiel was a bad idea, that he should just care about himself and no one else. But he didn't care. He didn't care. Over the last three days, Castiel had become his friend. He would not betray him. He would find a way that would allow them both to live. _'But I'm so tired of making empty promises...'_

They held each other for a long, long time.


	5. Ache

**A/N: WOW HI. I am so, SO sorry it took so long to update! I've re-drafted this chapter many times, and it was originally supposed to be a lot longer, but I decided to split it up so that I wasn't taking forever to edit and I could let you all know what's up. I've been taking my final exams and finishing up school, which has had me so busy and stressed out that I haven't had the time to type anything up or work on this piece. Hopefully, now I'll be able to. I won't promise more frequent updates, because I've done that in the past and failed to deliver.**

**It's good to be back, though, and I thank those of you who are still reading!**

**P.S.: I'm sorry this chapter is so short! You're allowed to be frustrated with me, I understand. I'd be frustrated with me, too. I'll try and make sure the next chapter is longer. I've been reading other fics where there are, like, 5,000 words per chapter. Once we seriously get rolling and all of the pre-Games stuff is out of the way, that's what will most likely happen.**

**P.P.S.: Wow, the word 'know' was used a lot in this chapter.  
**

**TRIGGER WARNING: There is a major trigger warning here because of the amount of violence contained in this work. Child and teenage death are prominent. Blood and violence is major. Please proceed with the utmost care and caution if any of these bother you.**

* * *

Dean and Cas eventually left the training area (albeit at different times so as to avoid suspicion) and went back to their respective hotel rooms. When Dean walked in through the door, all eyes immediately darted to him. Lisa was wary, but she understood the pressure Dean was under to make allies. After all, he had a family. Family came before her. She understood that.

Bobby, however, was glaring daggers at him. "Dean. You're submerging yourself into very dangerous waters, boy. Don't you start feeling compassion for this new ally you get, y'hear me? You'll never wanna kill him if you do," he explained. From how Bobby spoke, it seemed as if he knew from experience.

Dean frowned and shook his head. "I can't help it, Bobby. This guy needs me. And... well, admittedly? I sorta need him too. I could use him. He could help me win-"

"You don't wanna win, Dean. And we both know that. So don't give me this BS about him helping you win and all that jazz, because you don't really want him to help you. You, or someone else, has to kill this boy in the end. And I sincerely don't want it to have to be you that has to do it, son." Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked up indignantly at his accuser.

"You know, how dare you? You, who told me before we even arrived here, that making friends was important in this game. And if not friends, valuable allies. My decision as to who I want on my side has absolutely nothing to do with any of you at the end of the day. At the end of the Games, even. Only one person comes out alive in the end, right? And... well, golly gee, it sure isn't going to be you, Lisa.

"Look, I'm not going to take my chances on a selfish bitch who's jealous of a guy that's going to help me kill countless other innocent people, just so that I can end up killing him in the end. The image isn't pleasant, and none of your attitudes are helping. Just... just lay off me, okay? I don't need this. I didn't sign up for this. None of us did. But the difference between you two and me, is that I know what I want and who I want, and that's that. Goodnight." Dean's words reverberated through the minds of both Bobby and Lisa cynically as Dean went to his room and slammed the door.

He threw some things around, and maybe he even kicked the wall a few times, but what he really wanted to do was talk to Cas. Cas would know what to do. Cas would calm him down. Cas, who he had only known for a few days, was now becoming his confident. It was ludicrous, really. Something out of a movie or television dramas (which Dean definitely never watched, FYI).

After his rampage, he settled for sitting on the edge of his bed and flicking on the TV to see the training results. It went down the list of Tributes, and Dean ended up receiving a 9. He sort of just grimaced at that. "Great. More of a chance for me to die, now," he muttered. And Cas... Cas got an 11? Cas... got an 11. CAS GOT AN 11! Dean literally jumped up from his place on the bed and shouted for joy. However, it wasn't loud enough for Bobby, Jody and Lisa to hear in the other room.

Secretly, some part of Dean wished that Castiel had gotten a lower number than him, so that he wouldn't be targeted, but he knew he acquired a great ally all the same. He could sleep peacefully, now, before the interviews the next night. Oh god. Interviews. What could Dean say? Did he even want to say anything? He wanted Cas, that's what he wanted. He wanted to listen to Cas' problems. He wanted to help him in any way that he could. It was coming to this startling realization that triggered Dean to sneak out of the hotel room and into the elevator, going up to Cas' floor.

It was when he got there that he realized he didn't have a key to the room. Sighing frustratedly, he jostled the door knob. This, of course, was only going to wake possibly everyone in the room up, but hey; he was going to die soon anyway, so let him live a little! What a rebel, seriously. When jostling the knob didn't work, though, he made his way across the hall whispering Cas' name, wondering if he could somehow find the walls to his room on this side of the suite.

"Cas," he whispered briskly. "Cas. Cas, you there?" Continuing on down the hallway, he stopped short when he heard a muffled noise. "Cas?"

"Dean? Dean, is that you?" There was the muffled sound again. It was Cas' voice, and Dean followed it to almost the end of the hallway (geez, their suite is huge if it stretches this far along the hallway!) before stopping right near his voice. He tapped on the wall twice and Cas responded with three taps in return. Dean grinned and rested his head against the wall.

"Congrats, buddy. An 11? You'll be the most popular guy at the interviews!" Beyond the wall, Cas wasn't smiling. He had actually been crying softly before he heard Dean, because he didn't want the highest score, he didn't want to be popular, and he certainly did _not _want to die.

"I don't care, Dean," he sighs. "I don't care about... about some pointless training score that's going to mark me as the 'one to beat.' I just..." A tear or two dripped down his face. "I care about you, Dean. I'm going to make sure you win. I..."

"I know, Cas. I get it. Trust me, I do. And it's painful, and you can't help it, and you think it's the beginnings of love or something, but we don't have time for love during the Games. At least, I don't think..." A pause. "Anyway, Cas, I have to warn you now... I know I told you I'd get us both out of that arena, but... well, I dunno if I can do that-"

"Yes. I know, Dean. I get it. Trust me, I do. And it's painful, and you can't help it, and you think it's the beginnings of love or something, and there's plenty of time for love during the Games," Cas repeated almost verbatim. "I don't want to die, Dean, but there's something about you that is extremely promising. You can overthrow the government; make something of yourself. I'd just be running around in circles, chasing my tail and training hopeless tributes, Game after bloody Game. I'm counting on you, Dean. And, while it won't matter two weeks from now, I just want you to know that... I think I love you, Dean. It might not be in the way you're thinking, as in a sexual love, or a partnership, but maybe an admiring and undying love for you in which an occasional display of affection would be welcome. That seems about right. I know I've only known you for a few days, but you're going to be a hero, I can feel it."

The pain in Dean's chest wasn't going to go away. The ache had already been there since the day his name was picked at the Reapings. It had dulled, though, and he had almost completely forgotten about it. But, now? It took on a new flame. It turned over a new leaf, a full one-eighty, and sparked painfully anew. Now he had to kill a guy who just professed his love for him. Great. Fantastic.

"I love you too, Cas. I don't know in what context, yet, but... I definitely feel something strong for you. Stronger than partnership, yeah. A different love. Something I've never felt before, and..." He slammed his fist on the wall. "It's not fair. It's not fair that we, who didn't even start the freaking uprising, have to die."

"It's the price of freedom, Dean."

"I know."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Try and get some sleep, okay?" The concern in Cas' voice was clearly evident. "You want to look your best for the interview tomorrow, and I am certainly not going to ruin it for you. Please."

"... Alright. So long as you sleep, too," the taller boy commanded.

"With a bounty this big on my head, I don't know if I'll be able to," he replied with a weak, nervous laugh. "But I will try my hardest. For you."

"Thank you," he sighed and, before he walked away, Cas tapped on the wall three times really slowly.

"That means I love you," Cas explained, with a smile etched on his face from the other side of the wall. "In my language, anyway." Dean grinned, tapped the wall three times and then knocked on it gently.

"That's 'I love you, too,' just so you know." The darker haired tribute rested his forehead against the wall, and his laugh reverberated through it. He had Dean laughing, too, though they were carefully quiet about it so as not to wake anybody up.

"Okay," he managed through fits of giggles. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Cas."

As he walked away, the words _'I love you'_ were slowly being embroidered into his heart. There was no way he was going to be able to kill Castiel. No way. He came to this conclusion as the elevator shut and he began the descent to the comfortable District 4 suite. In just two more days, it would be reversed; he would be ascending in the elevator to his untimely death. The ache was burning his chest alive.


End file.
